The Cursed Room
by Crazy909
Summary: Harry has a routine that includes going to certain orphanage. A room there is thought to be cursed, this is where Harry stays. He meets someone that becomes very important to him and what happens in his life. Note: Bad Dumbledore, Good Tom, TIME TRAVEL
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to JKRowling; I don't own anything except the plot.

* * *

The Cursed Room

Prologue

Harry shuddered in the back seat of the car. They were doing; they were really doing it, sending him to an orphanage. He glanced out he rain-streaked window at the grey clouds, if his Uncle was telling the truth; (which he was, only Freaks lie), this would be the last thing he saw. He wished I was sunny, he hardly ever saw the sun. It was good when he did, it actually made him feel nice, for lack of better word.

The car pulled over, then stopped. Vernon got out, the whole car lifting as he did, and slammed the door. He pulled Harry out the back door by his arm.

"This is it Boy," he said. "You're staying here."

Harry looked up at high railings that made up the fence, through to the square grey-stoned building on the other side. There were words above the arch into the fencing spelling out 'WOOL'S ORPHANAGE,' not that Harry could read the writing, his relatives didn't allow him to go to school. School was for normal people, so Harry understood. He didn't understand why his relative told others he was 'sickly' and 'home-schooled.' He supposed that his family didn't want others to know they had a freak.

"Well," Vernon said, pulling Harry none-to-gently towards the door. "Come on Boy."

Harry looked again at the building, then back to his Uncle. "Please," he said, knowing it was a bad idea already. "Please I'm sorry, I didn't mea-"

"Shut-up, Boy," his Uncle replied. "You should have thought of it before you threw our Dudders across the room."

At the gate he stopped, "You go in there Boy," he said. "Say you we can't look after you and your parents are dead. Your name's Harry. Don't tell them our names, or address. Wait until I drive away before you go in.

So Harry did.

o0o

When his Uncle had driven away he walked in the gate. He felt funny as he did so, and paused, frowning. When nothing happened he decided it was just him being freaky and weird again, and he continued in. He got to the door and knocked, waiting. It was answered by a tall lady with flat, brown, rather boring hair and eyes; it was strange how the hair and eyes were the same.

"Hello," she said. "I'm Emily, how can I help?"

Harry blinked, pushing his too big glasses up his nose and looking at Emily with big emerald green eyes. "I'm Harry. My parents are dead. My family can't look after me. I have to stay here."

Emily blinked. "Oh, come in."

Harry followed Emily down the hallway into a small room just off. "Mrs Dayz, this is Harry. He was just dropped off. He hasn't got anyone. "Oh," Mrs Dayz, (presumably), blinked.

"Alright then," she continued; the funny look in her eye gone. "Well, there's only the one roo-"

"Mrs Dayz!" Emily exclaimed, shocked. "We can't it's, you know' –she glanced at Harry, dropping her voice to a whisper- 'it's cursed, you can't put him in _there!_"

"Emily, –" Mrs Dayz sighed. "I know, its, well, there's something wrong with it, but… it's all there is. Go on now and check on Jay. Come on Harry, I'll show you where you can stay.

Harry followed Mrs Dayz up two flights of grey stone stairs and to the first door. At the door she reached for the handle, than she paused, turning to face Harry.

"Harry," she paused again, looking for the right words. "Nobody has used this room for a while, long term that is, a few stay a day but get such a- well, the room,-" she sighed. "Harry. People say this room is cursed. We can't move the bed tonight, so you'll stay in here. We'll move you to a better room tomorrow. It's called 'The Cursed Room,' the last to stay full time in this room was fifty years ago… it just has a bad feel to it. The boy that had this room apparently was a little crazy, or strange. You'll be alright for tonight won't you?"

Harry nodded. He didn't care. Mrs Dayz smiled; a 'you'll be fine,' smile, then opened the door.

"'Night Harry."

"Night," he whispered.

The door closed and Harry made his way too and snuggled up into the wardrobe, it smelt funny, like burnt wood. He didn't mind, it was warm, even without a blanket.

* * *

The next day Harry came out at all the noise. He followed the other children down the stairs and into a dining hall. They all, except Harry who knew he wasn't allowed, had breakfast. As it was a Saturday they had the day to themselves after this. Harry wasn't noticed much, but the ones who spoke to him all asked things like:

"_Did you _really_ stay in the cursed room?"_ or say:

"_You're not scared about that?" or "How come you're still Ok and not dead or somethin'?"_

Harry would nod, shake his head or shrug. When Mrs Dayz mentioned moving he said: "The rooms fine." And that was that, he didn't want the others to know what a freak he was.

This continued until the Sunday night when Mrs Dayz called him to her office.

o0o

Mrs Dayz herself was there in her blonde cheery self, but so was another lady. Strict looking and very proper, she wore her hair in a bun and older fashioned clothing.

"Harry," Mrs Dayz smiled. "This is Mrs McGonagall. She was a friend of your parents. She's going to take you home, to some family."

Harry nodded. He didn't know he had more family. Aunt Petunia never said so; he hoped he wasn' going to Aunt Marge's. She was scary.

"Come along, Harry," Mrs McGonagall said, and marched the both out of the building to a car waiting at the gate. They got in quickly, McGonagall looking at the darkening clouds. In the car she told Harry he might as well sleep on the long trip and off they went.

Harry didn't sleep, he, once again, watched out the windows. Soon they came to Privet Drive and the car stopped at number four. Harry was confused. Uncle Vernon said he wasn't coming back, but he also said orphanages were horrible. Maybe this was all a test?

Mrs McGonagall knocked on the door, Uncle Vernon answered. He welcomed them both into the house.

"Well Mr. Dursley," McGonagall said. "Here is Harry safe and sound."

To Harry she said: "Be careful now, try to have no more accidents with your cousins you scared your family a lot you know." And at that she left. As soon as she was out he was in his cupboard. Harry was somewhat glad to have his old routine back and he fell asleep, he knew he had to get up early to do his chores.

A couple of months later he ended up at the orphanage again, then was picked up the following Sunday, a few more months, the orphanage, pick up. This continued until he spent every third weekend and special occasion there. He would sit in the curse room awaiting Sunday when he'd be picked up. He didn't like it here. He always had nightmares and strange dreams. But this was his new routine, and he was alright with that.

* * *

**A.N**: The reason it's so easy for Harry to not be questioned about being left is his magic. Vernon told not to tell anyone and he was to stay there. His magic manipulated things so that he could, and was protected. His magic 'knows' Vernon, so to speak, it knows what would happen if they do wrong to him.


	2. Tom

Disclaimer: JKRowlings owns what you recognise

* * *

Chapter One:

Tom

Harry was seven-and-a-half when it happened. 'It,' being the beginning of the change, of the routine, of what Harry knew. It was New Years Eve, so, as usual on a 'special occasion'; Harry was snuck into the car for the usual trip to the orphanage. These trips had started about half a year ago, just before Harry turned seven. Harry had seen many rainy days, every time he went, it rained. That was normal. Today it was sunny. Not a cloud in sight, beautiful. Harry spent the trip looking out the window, which he could properly see out of because of the absence of clouds. He couldn't see much, he was much too small to see out the windows properly, but the blue sky and coloured rooftops did make a change.

The whole pattern was the same. They arrive; Harry is dropped off down the street. He waits for his Uncle to leave and then walks down to the orphanage where he feels the strange sensation he's always felt as he walked in. Harry climbs the stairs and knocks twice, - he has to be polite, - and walks in, straight to Mrs Dayz office where he waves from the doorway.

"Harry," she always says. He just waves again.

She gestures up: he nods and makes his way to his room. That is what it is; his. Nobody else will use the cursed room. He'll sit in there in the wardrobe where he should be until the Sunday, which is when Mrs McGonagall will pick him up so he'll go down to Mrs Dayz office when the sky starts getting dark.

Harry reaches his door and then he stops. _His_ door is usually a dark blue colour. It's a faded brown now, the paint peeling around the edges and a rusted handle. He knows no to ask questions so just presumes something happened to the regular door, opened it and went in. Inside he turns, carefully shutting the door so it doesn't slam. Cocking his head he looks curiously at the back, it covered in strange, thick, yellowy paper. They had writing and drawing all over them he ignored it and turned to his cupboard.

"What are you doing in here," a voice asked. "And hasn't _anybody_ taught you to _knock_?"

o0o

* * *

Harry swung around to the bed and stared. There was tall boy sitting on the bed. He had jet-black hair, like his and light brown eyes that looked somewhat faded or _grey_ in the right light.

"_Well?_"

Harry blinked, that was a question, and the other two things the boy said were. He could answer.

"I always stay here, nobody's ever be'n in here before, so, I didn't think to knock, I have been taught though, it's very rude to enter a room without knocking first," Harry told the boy.

The boy stared at him, narrowing his eyes, "tell the _truth,_" he said. "This is _My_ room and has been since I could walk. You can't have _always_ stayed here. **Why are you here?**"

"I said, it is true, hones'ly,"Harry replied, eyes wide with fear. This was not routine. "Nobody uses this room. Mrs Dayz said so, she said nobody'd used it permanently for fifty years. I jus' came in here like usual. I'm really sorry." He bowed his head.

The boy sneered at him, "I've always had this room, as I said. I don't know a _'Mrs Daze'_ and I doubt this orphanage existed _fifty_ years ago. But whatever, stay in here; I don't care. I'm not sharing the bed though." He looked at his book, then back up, "I'm Tom."

Harry nodded, "I'm called Harry."

"Called?" Tom asked. "What's your name then, 'Harold,' or something?" he raised an eyebrow.

Harry shook his head, "I don't have one. My Uncle said so; he gave me one for here."

Both brows rose at this, "if you don't have a name what are you called at home?"

Harry bit his lip, he really shouldn't be talking about this, "boy," he cocked his head and shoved his glasses back on his nose. "Freak, you; sometimes I just know it's me," he explained.

Tom glared; then his look softened as Harry shuddered, "right, well; do whatever. Don't touch my things."

Harry nodded and Tom turned towards the grimy window and continued reading the book that he had neglected for speaking with Harry. Harry went to the wardrobe. It had stuff in it now; he presumed it was Tom's. He was careful not to touch it as he sat in the far side; there wasn't much in there so it was easy. The burnt smell Harry noticed the very first time he stayed was much more pronounced. He just went to sleep curled up, not worrying, but a little curious about Tom, the door and the burnt wood smell.

o0o

Harry had a bad nightmare that night, worse than the ones he usually had when he stayed here. The green light was in it, laughter screaming and pain. He woke screaming and to being shaken.

"Kid, seriously!" Tom said.

Harry was wide awake instantly, he looked at Tom; frightened and wide-eyed, voice shaking he spoke: "'m sorry, really I am, I shan't scream again, promise, really I won't! I'm sor'y I did hones' I-"

He was cut off from his ramblings, "Kid, stop it!" Tom sighed and grabbed him out of the wardrobe. "Come on," he said reluctantly, and carried him to the bed. He put Harry on it and pulled himself to the wall side. Harry was as stiff as a board. Tom rolled his eyes and pushed Harry so he was lying down, he himself lying down facing he wall.

"Now, go to sleep!" he said, closing his eyes and starting to drift off himself.

Harry didn't though. He just lay there, stiff, un-moving and not breathing. Tom realised and with another more annoyed sigh climbed back over Harry and pulled the chair over to the bed where he sat Harry up. Tom's eyes narrowed and he jabbed Harry under the ribs Harry gasped.

"Good." Tom stated, "Now keep breathing."

He waited until Harry'd got his breathing even and started questioning him again.

"Alright why were you sleeping in the cupboard?" was his first and the most important question. "I thought you'd left and that's what the door sound was. I would have shared the bed until you got your own room." His eyes narrowed further, "_**And**_, that's **only** because of what you said about your name. I stay here by myself."

Harry's eyes were downcast, "I always sleep in the cupboard."

"Why?" Tom sneered, "If you're 'always' here, why not use the bed?" he asked, mockingly.

Harry frowned, "I'm not allowed to use the bed… why'd you put me on here? Uncle will find out and then I'll really be in trouble."

At that he started off, but Tom took hold of him. "I don't think so," he said.

"Where do you sleep at your Uncle's?"

"My room."

"Where's that?"

Harry shrugged. "Answer!" Tom demanded.

Harry looked up quickly: "Thecupboardundethesairs! ImsorryreallyIam. I'llbegoodreally!" he cried.

"Slowly," Tom said, with an angry tone.

"The Cupboard that under the stairs. –it's alright though, really. Uncle can't ge- it's all right, I like it."

An eyebrow rose, "Your Uncle can't what?"

"Get in," was the short answer.

"You said you always stay here, if you also stay at your Uncle's how is this possible?"

"Well, he brought me here jus' before I turned seven," Harry explained. "I stayed the weekend and then Mrs McGonagall took me back. Then Uncle brought me here a few months later and the same thing happened. Soon Uncle started bringing me every third week and on all the days for the family. Christmas and Easter and birthdays, todays New Years so I was brought again."

"Why? Your family too and where are your parents?"

"I'm not _proper_ family," he wrinkled his nose. "'M a burden and shouldn't of be'n dumped with my good relatives after my parents died in the car crash, they were bad and freaky like me."

Tom could tell this had been repeated, or repeatedly told very often. "What do you mean 'freaky?'"

"I blasted Dudley across the room and burned Uncle Vernon and survived and painted the bathroom blue somehow and grew my hair back overnight and talk to snakes and –"

"You can talk to _snakes!_" Tom exclaimed. Professor Dumbledore had said it was unusual. He had read only certain people could speak to them; it was called 'Parseltounge' and _he _was a 'Parselmouth.'

Harry nodded wide-eyed and shaking. Now, the boy, Tom; who was being nice and letting him sit on the bed and talking to him and not hurting him for being on it or screaming _was_ he somewhat _liked_ Tom.

"Hey," Tom said sternly. "I'm not going to hurt you, stop shaking every time I talk to you." He frowned, "You're Uncle…" he trailed off. "Are you hurt now?"

Harry shook his head. "Good," said Tom. "Now back to the talking to snakes thing, I can do that too!" There was an excited, hungry glimmer in his eyes. "It's not _freaky stuff_ its **magic**!"

o0o

Harry's eyes were impossibly wide at this. "No." He said, very firmly, "No, Uncle said, magic is bad, **bad!** I'm not, I'm good. There's no such thing as magic."

Tom somewhat smiled, but frowned all the same; this boy who turned up out of the blue, was like him. Except _he_ learnt how to use his magic to help himself, the kid in front of him obviously didn't. But- that was probably from being told magic was bad, he wasn't, nobody even suspected _magic_. Now the main thing was to find out about this boy.

"A professor- teacher- from a school told me it's real, _I_ never used to believe in magic either. I just _knew_ I was _special_ though, and so are you. Your Uncle, _(this word was sneered)_, was wrong. And anyway, the person that told me, is a teacher, would a _teacher_ lie?"

Harry looked worried, scared and angry at the same time; "No, No, No." he said. A light burst out of him and it threw Tom into the wall opposite. Worried, horrified and scared Harry ran to the wardrobe. He stayed there for the next two days.

* * *

Tom came to consciousness, a little while later. The kid was powerful, but scared. He hammered on the door and tried opening it, but it didn't. He supposed he had a form of the silencing and locking charms on there, but the accidental kind. He'd try to explain later.

o0o

The Sunday afternoon Harry came out. "Hey," Tom said. Harry just glared. He knew magic was bad and he stalked straight out the door. On the other side of the door frame he turned back and gaped, Tom had disappeared!

He went back in and Tom was there. Shaking a little he ran. Magic was bad! How could he be doing it? He ran straight down to Mrs Dayz office and waited for Mrs McGonagall, all the time, thinking…

* * *

**A.N**: Dumbledore visits Tom during the Christmas Holidays in this one, 3 weeks before the 31st, Tom's Birthday as well as New Years. Tom somewhat gets on with Tom gets on with Harry somewhat because his magic senses Harry's, even though neither of them notice. Tom reads a lot, that's how he knows Harry is powerful. Horcruxes exist in this story, which is another way that the two feel somewhat comfortable together. Otherwise, no other spoilers.


	3. The Second Trip

Chapter Two

The Second Trip

Harry tried to forget it. Magic wasn't real, his Uncle and Aunt told him so all the time. Only crazy people believe in magic and he wasn't, was he? He certainly remembered _his_ door and_ his_ room being different and throwing somebody across a room. The boy, Tom, even said the orphanage hadn't been around fifty years ago and he knew it was, it had been around since before the war; Mrs Dayz had told him to try to get him to talk, so, obviously _Tom_ was crazy. If Tom was still in his room when he went back he wouldn't talk about it. He could talk about the papers on the back of the door and where the blue door went. Nothing strange or freaky, yes, Harry smiled; that was a good plan.

o0o

The next time Harry went was the first school week; his relatives didn't want him distracting their Dudders in the first week back a school. He hadn't been for a while, which was strange. Aunt Petunia loved her routines. They drove the familiar roads in the familiar weather and routine was once again here. It was Sunday though; Dudley went back to school the next day, this meant Harry had a whole week to observe Tom. He did that a lot; it made it easier to see what he would get in trouble with next and how he'd be punished. Tom seemed to not care about the shouting and he even sat Harry on the bed last time. He had to watch him because of the strange things he was doing. Nobody was meant to like a freak.

Harry walked slower than usual. If Tom **was** still in _his_ room, he was a bit frightened. He threw him across the room and made him go unconscious. But, he said 'Hey,' right? Harry ran into the door he was so deep in thought.

He knocked twice went in waved- '_hi Harry,'_- another and up the stairs. He paused in front of the door. It was still the other one; not his blue one. He slowly opened the door and peeked in.

No one.

It was just all glimmery. Especially around his hand; so he pulled it out. It became normal, so he tried with his foot glimmer in, normal out. Was this the 'magic' Tom spoke about? Fuzzy-glimmery stuff? He shrugged and stepped through all the way, right into someone. He blinked, Tom!

"Harry," Tom said, confused. "What _were_ you doing?"

* * *

o0o

Harry blinked, again. He seemed to do an awful lot of surprise blinking when he was here. Wrinkling his nose he looked at Tom, his head slightly tilted, fringe in his eyes, eyebrows raised and a confused look on his face; obviously asking: 'what _are_ you talking about?'

"Your arm, on the door," Tom explained. "It came through by itself. –not attached to anything. Your leg did the same thing."

"Oh," was Harry's reply. "It's all glimmery there, - he pointed, - 'I wanted to see why, so I put my leg through. My arm went through as I opened the door."

"Alright," said Tom.

"Is-" Harry broke off.

"Is what?" Tom asked, and then looked at him carefully. "You can ask whatever you want, I'll try answer." He liked the kid; he was like him so, so much. He felt- nice, for lack of better word, to be near. He felt, better near him and his magic, (as he now knew what it was), tingled across his. The kid, -he needed a name, - was special, like him. None of the other magicals gave him this feeling.

Harry bit his lip and blurted it out: "Is the fuzzyglimmerystuff on the door, isitisit; isitmagic?"

Tom just looked at him. "I-i-is that fuzz-zy glim-im-mery stuff, on the door, i-i-is it, uh, ma-ma-ma, uh," Harry stuttered. "_Magic?"_ he whispered. "Is that what you meant, fuzzy, not **bad **magic?"

Tom looked at him and frowned. "I think," He started, carefully, "I think the glimmery stuff you see on you door is how you get here, from somewhere. It's a _type_ of magic. There's lots of types and yes some magic can be bad, but only if you use it for a bad reason. So this magic isn't bad and neither is painting the bathroom or blasting somebody across a room, or growing your hair back."

"What about the snakes?" Harry whispered. "Uncle Vernon said that was bad, but he said all of it was bad. Green said it was good and that the last speaker had been gone for nearly eight winters."

"Eight winters," Tom murmured. "Talking to snakes isn't _bad,_ so to speak. Professor Dumbledore, who is the teacher that came and told about magic said it was _unusual_, but from what the books say many people think it is awful and is bad, but remember what I said, it isn't bad unless you use it badly."

Harry looked curious, beside what he wanted to believe, Tom was nice. He might be right, he didn't seem crazy. "How do you know, if the books say so?" he asked.

"I can talk to them too," Tom's eyes glowed eerily. "They come and find me and tell me secrets."

"But Green said-" Harry cut off, he knew better than to disagree, -unless it was magic.

"About the eight winters?" Tom asked, "Right now it's 1938, I'm eleven and about to start school a Hogwarts, a school for magic."

"It's not," Harry said. Maybe Tom was crazy. "It's 1988, I was born in 1980, and I'm seven and will be eight soon."

"You must have come through time or something, because I was born in 1926, which makes me eleven." Tom retorted. "I went back to Diagon Alley, a place for witches and wizards and looked at books and they say that magic people are trying to learn to time travel. So maybe your magic brought you here for some reason. I can't have been on purpose since you _obviously_ live with _muggles_."

"Show me." Harry demanded. It was very, no, completely unlike him, but…

Tom looked at him, a slight smirk on his lips.

* * *

"I only know what's in the books. So I can't do much here," he showed Harry his charms book. "This is a levitating charm. It makes things float. I have to use words but older, more experienced wizards don't." He looked at Harry, "The magic we do before we learn is 'accidental,' because most people can't control what they do; this is 'proper' magic I suppose. Now see, it says to swish and flick, I just sort of'- he swished a stick in his hand in an arc shape, flicking off to the side- 'Wingardium leviosa!"

The book in front of them started hovering. Harry touched it, eyes wide. "What's the stick for?" he asked. "And what do the words mean? Can't you just say float?" This all burst out again. He wasn't really acting like himself.

"The stick is actually a wand; you push magic into it I suppose. Wingardium leviosa, uh, Leviosa- levitate, perhaps and 'wing' you could have for fly, because wings allow things to fly. This is a sort of a 'mess' word. 'Arduus,' is Latin, high and 'Levis' light. Most spells have a basis; this one can be identified a few ways. The words help in the beginning, when you're older maybe you can think 'float' and it will happen, but when we're learning you say the name."

"Oh." Harry said.

"Here, do you want to see the book?"

"Alrig,'" Harry muttered. He took the book and glanced at the open page. There was a picture of a floating feather. He turned the page. On this page was a door, opening and closing. The next page had a button turn into a mouse.

"Are you reading, or just looking?" Tom asked.

"Looking, I don't read that well," Harry lied, he didn't read at all, he only knew the letter names because of the educational shows Aunt had on so her Dudders would become smart. He knew words because of Dudley's cakes, the washing machine and Vacuum. 'Happy,' 'birthday,' 'five,' 'six,' 'seven,' 'on,' 'gentle,' 'vacuum,' and things like that; and they probably wouldn't be in here.

Tom sighed, and took the book back, "Alright, I'll help, since you're seven, but you have to be able to read soon, someone can't always tell you… This one, he went to the first page again is the one I showed you-"

"Wing-gar-de-um Lev-i-oh-sar."

"'Lev-i-to-_sah_;' then this one is 'Alohomora'"

"Ah-lo-hu-more-rah."

"Yes, it unlocks door and this; this is 'finite'"

"Fin-e-tay."

"Mhmm, and this…"

o0o

That was how the first day passed. As it got late Tom went and had dinner, Harry didn't come; he knew he wasn't allowed. He sat and looked at the pictures in another book, 'Potions,' Tom said. Harry liked this book. It had pictures of some rather disgusting things, but they were ingredients. The name was written next to the image so he could see what order they went in.

In the first one some teeth were first; six of them. You did something and then four bits of the teeth went in the '_cauldron,' _as Tom called it. Then a lot of stuff happened. Then 4 slug things with horns, then two pointy spikes. Though he missed half the information, if Tom told him, he was sure he could do this, it was like special cooking… Aunt always made him cook and nobody complained, ever, so he must be able to do cooking OK.

Harry yawned, and rubbed his eyes. Tired he placed the book in the pile and made sure they were neat. He moved the chair to the window and neatened the bed up. He then slipped into the wardrobe and fell asleep; not closing the door, or even noticing Tom come in.

o0o

Tom was confused and a little worried when he came in; he'd hoped not to scare the kid away. He then noticed the made bed and carefully place books and he swung around and looked in the open wardrobe; Harry was curled up in there. He didn't want to move him and make him scared about the bed again, but he did have to try to keep Harry from sleeping there when he was here. He frowned and pulled his Hogwarts trunk out from the side of his bed. It was a little damaged, being second hand, but sturdy. Opening it he pulled out one of the better robes he could buy and draped it on Harry, closing the wardrobe door a bit. He just didn't want the kid to sick, how _annoying_ would he be then? He told himself, not wanting to admit he liked having someone _sort of_ look up to him in a way and for him to _sort of_ look after the kid. Tom frowned; the kid needed a name, his own, not whatever his relatives packed on him.

Tom dropped on his bed, and nearly instantly fell asleep staying awake long enough to yank a blanket up. He slept with a slight smile on his face. The first true smile; no matter how small, for a number of years.

* * *

o0o

**A.N:** I used Unknowable Wiki a bit for this and HPLexicon as well as pottermore's recipe, (no matter how much is missing,) for the boil cure.

From a review I got about Harry not acting his age: Dudley was the only child around Harry. When Dudley's friends were over he was in his cupboard, Harry grew up with adults and had to learn fast so he didn't get into trouble. This is why he changes a bit and acts older/younger than he is. He feels somewhat comfortable with Tom because he's either crazy or telling the truth; considering his Uncle hates him and Tom sort of made sense he's listening.

Wingardium leviosa has many possibilities for meaning, it's not a fully Latin word and can be interpreted in many ways. I checked this out on many sites as I don't speak Latin, and, more to the point the only bits Tom knows is from books he looked at in the shops, he doesn't speak it either, so, I'm happy with my translation.


	4. The New Day

Chapter Three

The New Day

Harry woke, not having a nightmare at all. He climbed silently out of the wardrobe pulling the robe that had been covering him out with him. He didn't really know what it was, but he folded it neatly and placed it in the trunk that was open. Looking around he noticed the absence of Tom. It didn't really bother him, he was fine by himself and as long as he was good, he couldn't be punished. At that he decided he should get started.

He closed the lid of the trunk and moved it back to the side of the bed where he'd noticed it before. He then made the bed carefully, tucking in all the sides and making sure there weren't any wrinkles. He opened the window a little like Aunt said; to air the room and piled the things on the desk carefully to make sure they didn't blow if a wind came. He knew it wasn't much, but there wasn't much to do. He sat in the wardrobe once he was done: silent and out of sight; like his relatives wished.

Tom mayn't have said anything, but Harry knew it was wrong to ask questions. He wanted to try and make Tom forget a bit, so he wasn't completely in trouble; if Tom could see he did everything right, maybe he wouldn't mind, so long Harry didn't break the rules again.

o0o

Tom climbed the stairs, carefully keeping the toast he'd taken from the dining hall hidden. The other children here were scared of him and wouldn't say a thing, but if one of the workers saw, it would cause problems. He knew Harry hadn't had lunch or dinner the previous day and seemed worried about coming down for dinner or Tom bringing anything up. He had to be hungry, but Tom doubted he'd of said anything; in fact he was pretty sure he'd have to tell Harry he **had** to eat it or force it down his throat himself. Tom didn't like where his thoughts were headed. He also didn't understand why Harry was always at his relatives. He may hate the orphanage but even the younger kids knew they checked a house _somewhat_ before allowing you to stay there. To come back and forth for a year was ridiculous.

When he entered the room he noticed what had been done. That was something that had to be fixed. He turned to the wardrobe and opened it right up. Harry was sitting in there, on the left, so he sat next to him on the left.

"Hello," Tom said, and handed Harry the toast. "Here."

Harry pushed it back, no eating unless Uncle Vernon said.

"Eat it," Tom said. "We're going out today and you need to eat. I will find a way to _make_ you eat if you don't eat it yourself."

Harry chewed his lip, looking at Tom's serious expression. He took one and slowly started eating, watching Tom the whole time. It took at least twenty minutes to eat the one slice. Harry stopped and checked Tom's face all the time and chewed it all right up knowing he would get sick if he didn't. Tom then wanted to give him another piece:

"Not hungr'y anymore," he said. Tom decided it was enough he'd eaten one and using a bit of '_accidental_' magic he learned early on, protected the rest of the toast and shoved it in his pocket.

"Alright," Tom said, firmly. "We're going out. Both of us."

Harry blinked. "Can't."

"Yes you can, I told you: you're in the past. That means your relatives won't know, now come on," he commanded. Tom being older Harry knew he had to listen, especially if he didn't want Tom angry because of the questions; so he nodded.

"Alright," Tom said and pulled the robe Harry had been sleeping under out of his trunk as well as a medium sized bag which the robe was shoved into. "Come on."

And with that they left the room

o0o

The inside of the orphanage was nearly the same as Harry's; but he did notice differences. It was the outside that really did it. It was _greyer,_ so to speak. It was wet- normal. People dressed different, and a little funny, it was like stepping into one of Aunts TV programs. It seemed very gloomy though. Harry didn't really get a chance to look though. Tom tugged his arm, not hard, but persistently as they travelled through the streets. Only one person said a thing: 'Are you all right boys?' to which Tom replied: 'Quite well, and you? -good! - Well, we really need to be off."

They hurried through the streets keeping to the sides. Harry who only came to London for his trips to and from the orphanage had no idea where they were headed. He knew he was tired though. Tom walked fast and he had a few hours of chores a day which was the only 'exercise' of such he got as the rest of the time he was locked in his cupboard or hiding himself in the wardrobe in his… his and Tom's room.

"'m tired," he said tugging back on Tom's arm. Tom stopped and looked around.

"We're almost there," he said. "We'll have a break there; I know we're rushing but I want to spend a good amount of time there. We've only got another ten or so minutes to get there. Harry nodded.

o0o

Soon they were on Charing Cross standing on one side, facing the other.

"See that?" Tom said, "The building opposite. It's rather old and dirty, but it's the main way into the magical world. It's called the Leaky Cauldron; none of the people around us can see it because they're not magical, they're muggles."

"Muggles," Harry repeated. "They have no magic, magicals _have _magic."

"Witches and wizards," Tom murmured. "Come along now."

Tom was right, it was dirty and old, but it was also full and noisy and busy. Harry didn't like it.

"Come on, it's alright," Tom tugged him through the fray. Soon they were at the back where it was quite empty. There Tom took the bag off and pulled the robe on.

"This is a robe, all wizards wear them," he explained.

"And witches?" Harry asked, carefully.

"Yes," Tom said, "But most wizards just say wizards and witches say witches. I suppose it's just easier that way."

Harry nodded solemnly.

The two then made their way to the back.

"We'll have to get you a robe so you'll fit in," Tom said.

"I don't have money," Harry whispered.

"It's alright I have some, I often help people outside the orphanage. Most of the older children do too, fourteen, fifteen. I started when I was nine though, books are expensive," Tom explained. "The school gives children a small fund if you haven't the money; I used that to buy supplies. I would probably only buy a second hand robe- depending on the price if I used my own money. Come on, we have to the bank to exchange my money first."

He turned to the bricks, then back. "Don't gape alright? Or stare, we're blending as well as we can."

Harry nodded and watched as Tom tapped the bricks of the back alley. They wiggled and parted into an archway, "This is Diagon Alley," Tom said, quietly. "Come on, the bank's the tall white building; it's run by goblins, don't stare. They seemed very disdainful of those who stared and those who looked down on them. Be polite."

Harry nodded. He felt he was doing an awful lot of that, but- what else was there to do?

Harry didn't stare but he glanced around an awful lot. To was right! Look at this stuff, brooms, weird ingredients and flashing light colours and signs. It was a bit much. He would take notice after the bank.

o0o

The goblins in the uniforms, standing at the door bowed them in, Harry and Tom nodded back. Tom knew that this was unusual, but he respected them, in his own way. He'd help Harry to read the History book when they returned to the orphanage.

The two made their way through the other doors to the bank. Tom pulled him to an empty counter where they waited.

And waited. The goblin – Griphook, the nameplate said; continued on with his papers. He then looked up. Most wizards would demand attention, even the muggle-born ones. The fact these two waited, the eleven years old from a few weeks back and a young boy, five perhaps. The goblins would know about them, they would be watched.

"May I help, Sirs?"

"Please," Tom asked. "I need this money exchanged for the wizarding currency."

Griphook nodded and held out a hand which Tom placed the money in. "Twelve pounds," he said. "I know it's not much but I do need it."

Griphook nodded again, "three galleons, one sickle and twenty knuts," he said.

"Thank-you," Tom nodded his head, Griphook bowed them off.

**A.N****:** Sorry about how long it took to get this out. It really didn't want to be written and I'm still not particularly happy with it. I may fix it when I continue on. Sorry about leaving you here but I want to keep it separate.

Note one: money: I used the HP Lexicon currency converter but changed it a bit. I put 10.5 in the UK pound selection and got 2 galleons, 1 sickle, 20 knuts. I added a galleon and changed it a bit so it would somewhat show a price change, but not much as the wizarding world doesn't keep up with the muggle world much, and though I'm sure the goblins do, there'd probably be a riot if the magical folk new their money system connected.


End file.
